Blackpowder Jolt
by Dragons Chaotica
Summary: Anders and Fenris share a special moment after fleeing Kirkwall. Rated T only because I'm paranoid. Oh, and mentions of mass slaughter...


Authors Note: Yes, yes and update your other stories before entering new fanbases and yada yada so on and so forth. If any readers of my other stories find this, I'm sorry, I'm working on the updates, really, I am. However I'm just a bit obsessed with Dragon Age, so, expect to see me here a bit.

Disclaimer: If I owned it…..Well, I wouldn't be on fanfiction, you'd be playing my twisted mind in game form.

* * *

"Mage."

Anders, having grown used to the prickly elf's deep intonations every bloody time he slept in, no longer awoke to the simple word, laced with command. Thus, he slept peacefully for at least a few seconds more.

"_Mage_."

At the very least, in the last few weeks Fenris had advanced beyond spitting insults at the possessed man at every opportunity. He'd advanced to calling Anders 'Mage' as opposed to 'Abomination', which he did see as a good thing, really.

"Bah! MAGE!"

Anders woke with a start. "Wha?! Wazzit? Raiders?" As the mage threw himself half-dressed from his admittedly uncomfortable cot and began to bluster around the room frantically for his staff, he took a moment to understand that Fenris was standing, quite calmly, next to the cot that he had formerly occupied.

"Are…? Alright Elf, what's up?"

"I merely wished to tell you it was half past. Par Vollen is on the horizon."

"Par Vollen?! Do you know what they do to mages there? Makers blood Fenris, I thought we were past this!"

Fenris simply smirked for his part. "According to Captain Tellan, we are to make port in Par Vollen, from there we circle north until we hit the Anderfels."

"Can we truly risk a stop in Par Vollen?" Anders intoned seriously. "They may not care for Tevinter, or the fact that you are running from it. However, as a mage, I am a beast to them! They will sew my mouth shut, and lock me in a pen with the other mages!"

The dark elf sighed now. "_Anders_." He made sure to place great strain on the word, which garnered all of the mages attention, as intended. "We port in Par Vollen. For three days. You and I will pitch a tent by the harbor as the area is fairly wooded. We will not make any trips into the body of the village unless we are forced to. After which, we will board again as if nothing has happened."

"And you're sure you aren't going to try and kill me."

"I do believe we are well past that, Mage. I owe you. And since we are on our own now, we must, even reluctantly, rely on each other."

It was true. After Anders had destroyed the Chantry all of their companions had fled, scattering to the winds after several months. Hawke and Merrill to Ferelden, Isabela to Rivain, Varric had returned to Kirkwall, Aveline and Donnic to Orlais and Sebastian to Starkhaven in an attempt to raze Kirkwall. Fenris and Anders had chartered a ship, _Ser Otto, _to be exact, the elven captain; Tellan had reputedly once gotten along quite well with a young Templar by the name of Otto. He had passed several years back and the captain's new vessel was now a tribute. Since Anders was fleeing Ferelden, they couldn't go south from the Free Marches. They couldn't go east for fear of Starkhaven, and trying north east led them to Tevinter. Their last route was to go north, past Par Vollen, then east, weaving interchangeably north and east to avoid other countries until they hit the Anderfels.

Their story was a strange one. Anders had taken severe damage in the fight against Danarius to free Fenris. However it was several months later, while separating from the group that their bond had forged. Anders was keen on returning to the Anderfels, Fenris to Seheron. Choosing north, both had become unwitting travel companions. Isabela carried them to Rivain, where her loyalty ended, to nobody's surprise. Within days slavers were coming down on them, while unsure if it was Isabela who had tipped them off, it was enough to keep them from seeking her aid. After a few weeks of looting the battered corpses of the slavers, they had gained enough gold to begin the next leg of travel.

On the way Anders had again put himself between Fenris and a rival mage. Another Magister to be exact. The ensuing battle had been grueling, and had resulted in Justice retreating to the fade, the Magister's death, and Anders's heart being manually pumped by Fenris's hand once he was able to move, and activate his markings. It had been a tense few minutes. Anders and the Magister, dead. Justice fled to the fade, and Fenris trying to force the Mages heart to beat as it should. Eventually Anders recovered, but it had taken weeks, and he still was sleeping too much for Fenris's taste. Had their next stop not been Par Vollen, a healer would have been summoned. In either case Fenris and Anders had formed an odd sort of friendship after that. Sharing a rickety cot in the bowels of the ship was no longer a trial of constraint, but simply warm. A conversation partner never went amiss. Anders for his part was glad to stop disguising his seasickness for fear of appearing weak, Fenris glad to sleep unarmed. In the end their partnership was beneficial.

"Yes, you're right, you're always right. Andraste's torn left stocking, can't you try to be less than completely accurate just once? It would be refreshing for the mage."

"Just lay back down, we dock in three hours."

* * *

Anders didn't think he'd ever been happier to be on land. As he beat a tent stake into the ground a fair ways into the forest he was just grateful that the ground didn't sway. Fenris was off hunting something for food, and Anders was making a temporary camp. However, it didn't take long to roll a few rocks into a ring, set a bag of supplies down and pitch a tent. So once he was done he had the opportunity to sit and relax. And to wonder about something he didn't quite understand, perhaps simply asking would work?

"I'm back."

Fenris strode into camp with several hares slung over his shoulder, connected by a length of rope.

Well, now or never. "Fenris."

"Hn? What?" Grunted the elf, currently occupied by skinning the small animals and preparing them for the spit.

"Why are you going to the Anderfels with me?"

Fenris leaned back on his heels. A slightly pinched look crossed his face, and he placed the partially skinned hare he was holding on the ground with his knife. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"You wanted to go to Seheron. The Anderfels were my escape, why the change?"

"If you wish me to stop following, I will."

Which was about the last thing Anders ever wanted to hear. "No! I just wanted to know why."

Fenris did not respond after that. Instead he busied himself with cooking the meat, and boiling some edible plants he had located.

Later, pleasantly full, Fenris began acting oddly, which made Anders quite suspicious. For while their newfound friendship was important to Anders, Fenris did not seem so invested. Often going days without speaking to the mage, offering to leave at random times, even staring intently when he thought the mage was otherwise occupied.

"Fenris, what are you doing?" He finally asked when the elf began pacing and muttering in his odd language.

Fenris's head rose with a jolt, before he hastily checked the sky. Anders looked up as well, it was dark…..it was night, what did he want with a black sky?

"Come with me." Was the only answer he received as Fenris turned and began striding through the forest toward the city proper. Swallowing his pride and misgivings, Anders followed.

"Do not use magic."

"Okay."

Before the Mage knew it they stood on a sandy beach turned from the water to face the gated center city in the distance.

"Why are we-?" Cut off by the mere _look_ the elf shot him, Anders silenced himself.

Several minutes passed and Anders began to wonder at the reason for being here.

Then a soft whistling sound erupted from the city. Colored sparks and explosions danced across the sky. They were loud, like Dwarkins bombs, but, pretty. Every color imaginable burst into the sky, painting the night a million shades of red, and green and blue. Yellows imitated the sun, purples a mystery. It was bright, so very bright.

"It's so….wow! I didn't know the Qunari did anything this frivolous, it's so, gorgeous!"

Fenris smiled, a small smile, but a true smile nonetheless. "They usually don't, blackpowder is a weapon, but some beautiful fool made colors for celebrations of the Qun. This is for the rise of the new Arishok, but I knew it was going to be…..pretty."

Anders gaped "You brought me here to see something _pretty_. _Why_?"

Fenris cast his eyes down. "I thought you would enjoy it. If I was incorrect we may simply go to sleep."

"_Maker no!" _Anders gasped breathlessly "Look at it. How could anyone not see this through? It's wonderful. I…Thank you Fenris, just…..Thank you!" the gratitude was expressed almost reverently. And Fenris's smile returned. As Anders turned back to the blackpowder show, Fenris took two steps forward and hesitantly placed his long fingered hand in the mages slack palm. Anders blushed, and jolted, _'Well that explains a lot'_ he thought to himself in wonder. As Fenris made to snatch his hand back, Anders caught his wrist, stepping back to stand next to his elf, and fully lacing the fingers of their hands together.

"Keep finding pretty things like this for me Fenris, and we'll just settle in Seheron."

"You'd hate it. The Anderfels are more suitable for us. Besides, snow is pretty."

Anders smiled at the man who finally made a bit of sense to him, eyes lighting upon his snowy hair. "That it is."

A soft kiss ended the night, and began the rest of them.


End file.
